


The End of the Line (An Infinite Loop)

by StairsWarning



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: LOL: Lots Of Longing, M/M, Post-Endgame, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StairsWarning/pseuds/StairsWarning
Summary: Bucky tries to find a sense of home and belonging without Steve's reassuring presence by his side. Bucky's therapist almost makes it seem like it'd be more healthy if Steve were actually dead, rather than just gone.





	The End of the Line (An Infinite Loop)

His feet were dangling from the edge of the twin bed when the alarm went off. 5:30 AM- time to go on his morning jog. Bucky sighs, getting up slowly, turning off the old-school alarm clock and grabbing his shoes. He had finally acquiesced to Sam’s belligerent claims that he needed “good, legitimate running shoes, not just those lame-ass Converse.”

The morning air does nothing to quell the sense of longing and sadness he feels. It’s not usually like this, usually Sam will come along with him in companionable silence. But today, he’s on duty. Captain America business. Just the thought of it sends a mix of pride and jealousy through his heart, so he tries to push the thought away and runs harder.

He’s taken the same path every day, given the same awkward smile to the other old timer’s in the neighborhood, and stopped every single day to sit at the Lincoln Memorial pool to watch the sky change colors. He had been without the small pleasure of watching the sun rise with no ulterior motives for so long. He was free now- had been for a good few years now. They had been tough years, but years with a sense of light at the end of the tunnel.

Him and Steve, side-by-side once more, punching Nazis. Bucky smiles at the thought.

It’s taken him a long time to be able to smile at the memories him and Steve had- Sam’s efforts for him to go to VA meetings helped out more than he thought they would. To them, it didn’t matter that he should be graying and decayed, or that he was both a WWII vet and a past Russian operative. They saw that he was an ex-soldier in pain and grief, and that’s all that mattered. Sam was proud when Bucky had come through the door after that first meeting, a light smile on his face. They had had dinner, talked about music (Bucky enjoyed Sam’s music taste possibly even more than Sam did), and sat quietly while Sam reviewed files and Bucky read.

He’d been doing that a lot- reading. There were a lot of classics he’d missed out on or had passed over in the attempts to look nonchalant in front of the ladies he would take to dances. It was stupid, but Bucky’s therapist had told him to let go of the guilt of his past mistakes. “You need to be in the now, Bucky.” She had said. Dr. Rodgers (Yvonne) had called him James at first, but it made him feel… Young. Childish. So he called her Yvonne, and she called him Bucky.

“Well, Yvonne, it seems that I’m not in the 40’s anymore, so I’d say I’m pretty solidly in the now.” Bucky jokes, patting his legs and chest. He makes these jokes often, with varying levels of sincerity. Yvonne has long since stopped taking his shit. She sighs.

“Bucky, you know what I mean. You may be here, your body may be physically present, but your head is somewhere else. You’re daydreaming to escape, Bucky.” She pauses for a beat. “Being present is the only way you can find closure.” She glances down quickly- noting the way his fists tighten in his lap and how his face turns to solid ice immediately. She speaks matter-of-factly. “You know that he’s not dead, but he’s not with you.”

“He chose her over me.” Bucky murmurs, face stone-cold but heart as broken as the shattered surface of a mirror. “Peggy’s a lovely gal, but Steve almost died for me.” He takes in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “He…” Bucky glances up to make eye contact with Yvonne, only to look away like a coward. “He was my everything... and I was his.”

 

There weren’t many places he wanted to travel to, now that the end of their battle had been reached. He’d tried going back to Wakanda, but something felt off. As soon as Sam offered a room in his old home in D.C., there was nowhere else he would go. He would walk to the various locations that he may or may not have been armed and dangerous in, but that wasn’t the important part. He visits the places he remembers- where he woke up to his own personhood. The awe-stricken _ “Bucky?” _ that had fallen from Steve’s lips during their fight by the overpass, falling into the water from the helicarrier, dragging Steve back out. He remembers it all, but keeps what is most important close to his heart.

He keeps everything he remembers close to him, but has paid special attention to anything Captain America-related. He wears Steve’s tags, makes sure no one burglarizes the Smithsonian (like he  and Steve had both done), and writes down everything he can remember. He fills journal after journal with incomprehensible cursive about his life, the war, and after he fell. He only lets Yvonne and Sam read them, but only certain journals. He keeps a system: private, and burn-this-when-I-die. He would be able to read every single private journal on live television, but the ultra-private not even he can admit is fully-realized thought. Like when he began his journal entries about Steve, he hadn’t anticipated the amount of love he harbored for the man. From the moment he remembers picking him up after his first street fight, Bucky had loved him. The curve of his smile, his sharp eyes, the fluid movement that he had gained after the serum. It might have become obsessive, if it wasn’t for Sam.

They may have not started on the best of terms, but Bucky would put his life on the line for Sam. They were soldiers in arms, despite only one of them currently being “active duty.” Bucky had been peeved at that, that they let Sam fight. He understood why but it annoyed him no less. So, he tried to reach out to find more friends and more places to call his own rather than just his own bedroom and living room. He joined book clubs, community sports, computer classes and DnD campaigns, all of which helped him in some way, but nothing helped the ever present strain in his chest. He knew it would be there until either Steve miraculously came back, or until he died.

Both he and Sam knew that Steve would never come back- that’s why he left the shield. Knowing this made Bucky grip the dog tags tighter, hoping for one last miracle. But as it seemed, he had run out. Many survived and came back, but it had seemed that Bucky’s entire goal, his entire  _ mission, _ had dissipated in his very hands. He had survived a lack of purpose before- when he had deviated from Hydra’s control- but he had Steve back then. He was still so goddamned optimistic- so  _ hopeful  _ that Bucky would join back together with him. He remembers the look on Steve’s face when he had told him his name.  _ “Your name… Is James… Buchanan… Barnes.” _ Even Olympic sprinting for five miles straight couldn’t keep that sound out of his head.

So instead, he sat.

Sat at the Lincoln Memorial at approximately 6:07 AM every morning, listening to the birds and breathe the fresh, chill air. He had tried drawing once- like Steve loved to do- and ended up with nothing but a pile of dogshit scribbles in the vague shape of a park. Yvonne had smiled, giggling lightly before Bucky had joined in too, laughing at his hapless way to reconnect with someone that was gone, but not-quite-dead. No monolith to mourn under, no door to knock on. 

Just a sense of loneliness and obsoletion. He felt…  _ Purposeless _ without him. Steve would have chastised him about that- hero worship. Never liked it much.

“Too bad, pal. I’ll always be here to annoy you.” He teased, smiling and leaning back on his palms to look off into the distance. He’s reminded of the sunrise he had walked into after the 107th had been single-handedly been saved by the man himself, Steve Rogers. That morning, despite the mud, sweat and blood caked onto his skin and clothes, he had shone brighter than the sun. “‘Till the end of the line.”

**Author's Note:**

> dslkdklngfk I haven't even SEEN Endgame yet but I know everything about it.   
> Me, slapping the Russo brothers: IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?? HUH?? THIS BUCKY IS FULL OF DEPRESSION NOW, AND IT'S YOUR FAULT


End file.
